


The Rule of Thirds

by ExpatGirl



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: BAMF Nancy Wheeler, First Kiss, Good Person Steve Harrington, Good Significant Other Jonathan Byers, Multi, OT3, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 05:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpatGirl/pseuds/ExpatGirl
Summary: Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy spend spring break in a cabin in the woods.





	The Rule of Thirds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aerialiste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerialiste/gifts).



> A thousand thanks to [betts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/) for her excellent beta-ing. Any errors are my own so point 'em out and I'll fix it!

**April 24, 1985**        

 

_Please give me one more night, one more ni—_

Jonathan reaches across the back seat, his hand scrabbling in a rush to cut Phil Collins off.

“Hey!” Nancy says from the passenger's seat, swatting him with the back of her hand. She’s been letting her hair grow out again, tied up in that high ponytail that shows the back of her neck. It drives him crazy—good crazy—which is probably why she does it. “We were listening to that.”

“Huh?” Steve says, and Jonathan flops back into the seat with a laugh. “What happened to the music?”

“Way to back me up here, Steve.” But she’s smiling, too, those lashes of hers catching the spring light as she dips her head.

“What?” Steve says, wide-eyed, earnest. “I always back you up, Nance. Don’t I always back Nancy up, Jonathan?”

Jonathan raises his hands in mock surrender as the two turn to look at him—Steve, briefly, because even Indiana backroads need attention, Nancy, lingeringly, because she’s bold that way.

“Um,” Jonathan says, opting to dodge the question entirely. “I made a tape, if you wanna...listen to something that’s….not that.”

“What, like a mixtape?” Steve asked, catching his eye in rearview.

“Yeah, like a mixtape.”

Steve smiles. There's a scar—unnoticeable, unless you were within an inch or two—that cut from the corner of his top lip towards his nose. From a run-in with ‘some racist dickhead with bad hair’, apparently, instead of some kind of monster-related injury, but Steve didn’t really like to talk about it, and Jonathan didn’t like to make people talk about things. Usually they ended up talking to him, anyway, one way or another.

Nancy turns to look at him, then holds out her hand expectantly. Surprised, the way he always is when either of them want what he has to offer, he fumbles in his coat pocket for a moment before taking the tape out. He blows the dust and loose thread off and gives it to her.

Nancy inspects it for a moment—the barbed, bold scrawl of Jonathan’s handwriting, which she says is _artistic_ rather than _barely legible—_ and raises an eyebrow at the title.

“What’s the rule of thirds?”

“It’s...uh. It’s a photography thing,” Jonathan says, blushing furiously for a reason he can’t quite put his finger on. “It’s just a way to, you know, frame things so that they’re more interesting.”

“Sounds pretty cool,” Steve says, putting on the turn signal, despite the fact that they haven’t seen another car in the last twenty minutes.

“Yeah,” Jonathan says, scratching at the back of his neck. “It is.”

“Hmm,” Nancy says. Instead of elaborating, she puts the tape into the deck and presses Play.

_Under the blue moon I saw you…._

****

“Did I tell you I’m thinking of taking a photography class next semester?” Steve asks as he walks in from the kitchen, holding two beers. They'd stopped at the general store in Twin Pines on the way to the cabin, because none of the clerks there check ID. Or at least, Steve's ID; he'd made Jonathan and Nancy wait in the car.

“Hm?”

“For my art credit?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I…” Steve looks down, in a way that Nancy says means he’s feeling shy. Though why Steve would ever need to feel shy, Jonathan’s never figured out. “I mean, I know I’m never gonna get as good as you, but I thought it might be fun.”

He sits down, on the arm of the couch, as far away from the side that Jonathan is on as possible. But then, a few seconds later, he turns and stretches his legs out until he's covering the distance between them. He nudges Jonathan's thigh with his toe. "I figure, I get stuck with my homework, I’ll get you to tutor me.” Steve’s not looking at him as he takes a large swallow of beer. “I’d pay you,” he adds.

Jonathan laughs. “Steve, you wouldn’t have to pay me.”

“No?” Steve’s looking at him now.

“No.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Steve holds out his bottle, and Jonathan gets the hint, clinking his own against it. “At least I know I’m getting one A in my college career.”

They watch each other drink. Nancy’s doing…something with her suitcase, and so it’s just the two of them. Jonathan’s not sure what, exactly, he and Steve are. In another world, they’d be rivals, enemies, a winner and a loser. In this one, they’re puzzle pieces. Comrades, maybe, rather than friends. Or maybe something else. Jonathan’s never been great at figuring out where the boundaries between feelings are supposed to go.

Nancy looks at Steve sometimes, when he comes home for the weekend, in a way that he’s pretty sure girls don’t look at guys they’ve gotten over, but Jonathan just can’t find it in himself to be jealous about it, not after everything.

(In his honest moments—the ones where he’s not worrying about his mother, who still sleeps all the time, and his brother, who’s developed a tremor, or about Nancy, who’s too smart for this town—in his honest moments, sometimes he admits he looks at Steve the same way.)

“You, uh,” Jonathan wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “You’ve never really told me about your roommate.” Steve’s never told them much about college life at all, really. He comes back to Hawkins nearly every weekend. He rushed for two fraternities and didn’t pledge either in the end. He hasn’t picked a major yet.

“Jack? He’s okay. Nice guy. Bio major from Muncie. He’s...very young.”

“You mean he’s some kind of wonder kid who skipped three grades?”

“What? No, he’s nineteen.”

“ _You’re_ nineteen.”

Jonathan expects him to make a quip about turning twenty soon. Instead, Steve takes another long drink before answering. “Yeah, but. There’s normal nineteen and then there’s...us.” The look Steve gives him then is heavy and hard to read.

Jonathan can’t think of anything to say to that. Except: “You mean freaks.”

“Hey…”

“That’s a compliment,” Jonathan says quickly.

Steve pauses over the mouth of the beer bottle. “Is it?”

“Yeah. Totally.”

“Then,” Steve says, smiling, and making Jonathan’s stomach do...weird things, “thanks.”

****

The cabin they’re staying in belongs to Steve’s aunt. It’s alarmingly pink and red inside, in a way that seems specifically designed to offend a photographer's eye.

But the bed is comfortable and there are no dead animal parts anywhere on the walls, so Jonathan feels pretty good about being here, all things considered.They’ve only got two nights here; spring break ends Monday, and Steve wants to spend some time with Dustin before he drives back to Muncie, but it’s long enough to avoid the worst of the assholery that will invade town over the next few days.

“What are you thinking about?” Nancy asks, sliding in next to him. He hears a low hiss of air through clenched teeth as her body hits the cold sheets and then suddenly she’s clinging on to him, trying to get warm. He bites back a yelp of surprise, and she says “sorry” straight into his ear, but she doesn’t sound too much like she is, actually.

She drapes a leg across both of his. “Hmm?”

“Is Steve asleep?”

“What? I think so. He passed out on me while we were watching an _Andy Griffith_ rerun.”

Jonathan laughs under his breath. “His hair’s gonna be a wreck tomorrow.”

He feels Nancy smile against his shoulder. “Are you planning to get photographic evidence?”

He turns to kiss her hair. “He’d never forgive me.”

“Sure he would.”

He goes quiet for long enough that Nancy whispers his name, curling up like a question at the end.

“Nancy. The...the three of us. You and me and Steve.”

She goes still, too. He can’t even feel the warmth of her breath through his shirt anymore. “What about the three of us?”

“We’re not. We’re not _normal._ ”

“So?”

“I dunno. Don’t you ever just feel like...you know, there’s a Before and an After? And...everyone around you still thinks they’re living in the Before, but…”

“But you know the truth,” she finishes for him.

“Yeah.”

“And the truth…”

“Sucks.”

“I was _gonna_ say, the truth is really lonely. But yeah, the truth sucks.” She kisses his cheek. “But having you around makes it suck less. Because you get it.”

“Yeah.” He exhales. “But so does Steve.”

She sits up. “Jonathan, what are you saying?” In the moonlight she’s a creature of gilded edges, and he knows that some of them are very sharp.

“I don’t know,” he admits, voice breaking. “I just think he gets us. I think we get him. I think...he’s lonely.” He takes a deep breath. “And I think we can’t just be _normal_ friends. Not you and him, not him and me, and not the three of us  We both know that.”

Nancy doesn’t lie back down, but he sees the tilt of her head, which means she hadn’t been expecting what he said.

“Just tell me,” Jonathan says, making his voice as gentle as possible. “You said you didn’t love him, but that’s not true, is it?”

“I don’t know.” Nancy grips her own arms and looks away. “I just,” she says at last. “I just couldn’t give him what he wanted. He talked about putting off college. He wanted to stay in Hawkins, buy a house, settle down. I could just... _see_ myself becoming my mother. Like a dream I couldn’t escape.”

She’s started to shiver, and Jonathan pulls her back down against him.  “You think that’s still what he wants?”

“I don’t know,” she repeats. “I don’t think Steve knows.” He begins stroking her hair, letting her talk. “I know that, when we were all together, as a team, I felt unstoppable.”

“We _are_ a pretty great team.”

“The way he used the bat you made.”

“That was pretty awesome. But don’t forget what a great shot you are.”

She laughs, a relieved sound. “Only because I had an amazing teacher.”

It’s always been that way, with him: building or teaching or documenting, so that others can use what he’s done, even if he doesn’t. He used to think it was his biggest flaw, a way to hide, but moving in the world feels like plunging his arms in boiling water most of the time. Now he’s starting to think it’s not a flaw; he’s starting to think he knows what he needs to do.

“We’re better together,” Jonathan says, feeling every part of himself go hot. “We just are. And—and I think. Nancy, I think you still love each other, and that’s okay. It’s okay. It’d be impossible not to feel...like that, when you’ve been through what we’ve been through.”

“I’m not going to cheat on you with Steve, Jonathan.” Her heart is a drumbeat against his side, and she’s hot to the touch, too.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Jonathan whispers, too scared to move, to push the covers down, even though he’s stifling. “I’m saying...I don’t know. I’m saying that I understand. I understand where you’re coming from because. Because I think that I feel the same way you do.”

His tongue now feels three sizes too big for his mouth and he’s pretty sure his skin’s going to peel off his body. And Nancy goes quiet again, so quiet. Just when he can’t stand it anymore, he hears her breathe out.

“Okay,” she says. She presses her face against his chest. “Okay. So...what do we do?”

For some reason, he starts crying, but he can’t figure out why. “I have no idea.” He’s wrung out; his brain feels like it’s been soaked in quinol **.** The thought of taking further action frightens him, in a way he didn’t realize he could still feel.

But then there’s Nancy, kissing him, stopping his thoughts before they’ve gone too far. “We’ll tell him,” she says. “In the morning.”

Jonathan swallows, uncomfortable. “But what if he doesn’t…” He can’t finish the sentence.

“Then at least we’ll know.”

****

Jonathan's not sure how he expects it to go. Yelling’s a possibility. It always is. He also knows Steve's not above property damage, but Jonathan figures that’s less likely when the property in question belongs to a relative. More distantly he considers the idea that Steve will raise his eyebrows and give them that slow grin of his—the kind that invites you under the bleachers or into the back seat, the kind Jonathan's seen aimed at dozens of girls since Steve Harrington was first on his radar—and say “I thought you'd never ask.”

But what happens is this: Steve listens to them quietly and then takes a walk, saying he needs some time to clear his head, and Nancy and Jonathan eat their breakfast in silence. Later, they eat their lunch in a vague state of panic.

“He’ll be back,” Nancy says, looking out the window to where the redbuds bloom. “He left his car here.”

“You think he’s okay?”

She shrugs, still staring out the window, and says nothing. Her lunch sits mostly uneaten on the plate, growing cold.

“Nancy…”

“I’m still glad we said it,” she says, tipping her chin up defiantly. “I’m still glad. I just, I wish…”

“I know. I wish…”

There’s a knocking at the far side of the cabin, and the two of them are instantly on alert. Nancy carries a knife in her purse every day, but when she’s not in town it gets moved to her boot. She reaches for it. Jonathan eyes the cast iron frying pan they used to scramble eggs for lunch. It’s still hot to the touch, so he slips his hand into the battered floral oven mitt before grabbing the handle.

There’s immense silence pressing in on all sides. And then—the door swings open and Steve’s unmistakable silhouette (his hair, as expected, a wreck) cuts through the light.

“Steve?” Jonathan hears himself say, incredulous and in time with Nancy.

“Hey,” Steve says, in a tone of voice Jonathan can’t decipher. He takes two steps inside the room, pausing to wipe his feet and shut the door behind him with care.

“Hey,” Nancy says.

Nancy and Jonathan glance at each other, belatedly realizing that they haven’t lowered their weapons. Jonathan puts the skillet back on the stove, and Nancy busies herself sliding her knife back into its place.

“So, uh,” Steve clears his throat and straightens his collar. There’s a leaf in his hair that Jonathan has to restrain himself from walking over and removing.

“Steve,” Nancy says, biting her lip. “You don’t...have to say anything.” She reaches out for Jonathan’s hand, blindly, and he grabs it. “Jonathan and I just wanted to let you know.”

“‘Hey, do you want to date me and my boyfriend’ is a big fucking thing to drop on a guy before breakfast, Nance.”

“Sorry,” Jonathan says, barely audible, looking down at his shoes.

“That’s not…” Nancy begins, but Jonathan cuts her off.

“So that’s a no?”

Steve looks at him, and Jonathan feels flayed.

“No, that’s a yeah, but...”

“But what?” Nancy asks, squeezing Jonathan’s hand.

“But...how would this—” Steve gestures broadly between the three of them. “—even work?”

“I don’t know,” Nancy admits, but there’s an undeniable undercurrent of hope in her voice. “But it could.”

“I mean, it’s not exactly _normal._ ”

Jonathan laughs at that. He can’t help it. “ _Normal?_  Steve.”

Steve looks down, running a hand through his hair. “I guess you’re right. But…” He looks back up again. “You’re both still here, and I’m all the way in Muncie. My parents’ll be pissed at me if I drop out after one semester.”

“Don’t drop out!” Nancy says, horrified, letting go of Jonathan’s hand and taking an instinctive step toward Steve. “We’ll be graduating in two months,” she says, more calmly. “And then we’ll have the whole summer together. To figure it out.”

There’s so much that could go wrong—that probably _will_ go wrong, Jonathan thinks. The thought of leaving his mom makes his blood run cold, even if they do have Hopper and Eleven ( _Jane,_  he reminds himself.) there most nights of the week. Will’s just started high school, and Jonathan needs to stick around to make sure that he has a better time than he did, and…

And he remembers the utter sadness in Mom’s eyes when he said he probably wasn’t going to go to college, and the disappointed way Hopper had looked when he’d told him that it was his decision.

He shakes his head, aware the conversation moved on while he was thinking.

“Jonathan?” It’s Nancy’s voice, but it’s Steve’s hand on his shoulder, and Jonathan blinks, feeling dazed.

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “We’ll figure it out.” Maybe he can go to community college for two years. See Steve and Nancy on the weekends, save every penny he can, try for something better, later.

But for now. For now, he gathers Nancy in one arm, and Steve in the other, and lets himself think about being happy.

“So that’s a yes?”

Steve's laugh sounds breathless. “It’s a _I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I want to do it anyway._ ”

“Good,” Nancy says, turning her face up to kiss him, and then Jonathan. “Then we’re all in the same place.”

****

The evening is unusually cold for the time of year. The three of them stand tensely in front of the couch, with the _Cheers_ theme running tinnily in the background, as though it might suddenly spring to life and maul them if they sit down.

It shouldn’t be any different than yesterday, when Steve and he shared a beer, or when Steve and Nancy stayed up watching reruns on a TV that’s older than they are.

But it is. When Nancy suddenly says, “Oh, come on,” and flops down on the far side of the couch, rather than the middle, like Jonathan was expecting, he and Steve share a brief, panicked look. Then Steve starts laughing.

“Hey, we’ve both done scarier shit than sit on a couch.” He sits down next to Nancy like he’s never been nervous in his life, but he keeps his hands carefully on his own knees and sits up straight. Far off, through the static, Norm has entered the bar.

Jonathan takes a moment to steady himself before he, too, sits down.  For a few minutes, they all stare straight ahead, though Jonathan couldn't say what was happening on-screen if his life depended on it.

Little by little Jonathan feels himself uncoil, until he's almost what he'd call comfortable. The credits roll, and the theme to _Night Court_ begins.

“I don't think I've ever watched this before,” Jonathan says, because he has to say _something._

“Really? But it's must-see TV!” Steve says, winking.

“Usually by this time on a school night, I'm getting Will ready for bed,” he admits. “Though I guess he's getting too old to need that now.”

Steve goes quiet and gets a soft kind of look on his face. Jonathan can't quite place where he's seen it before, until it hits him that it's the way Steve used to look at Nancy whenever he wanted to pull her in for a kiss. Jonathan's breath catches in his throat, sharp, but all he can do is stare.

He's not sure what he's expecting—he’s never sure what he's expecting, anymore. Has Steve even _kissed_ a guy before? Like, how does it even work? But Nancy's kissed both of them, and they're both guys, so maybe she can tell them what to do. But…

Steve kisses him and startles Jonathan's brain into momentary silence. Jonathan misses a stretch of time as he tries to catch up with what's happening and then he kisses back. This is something he and Nancy had discussed, but the softness of it, the shyness, takes Jonathan by surprise. He's seen Steve wield weapons with brute grace, he's seen Steve bloody and brawl-weary.  He wasn't sure how men were supposed to kiss—if they were supposed to kiss—but the thought that they might be gentle with one another, that Steve might let him hold his hand or cup his jaw, sends something swooping through his body clear to the soles of his feet.

“Hey,” Jonathan says, once they part. “That was...nice.”

“Um. Good,” Steve says, starting to blush. “I'm glad.”

Next to him, Jonathan hears a burst of laughter, and he looks over his shoulder to where Nancy sits, smiling into her clenched fist. She climbs across Steve's lap to sit between them, and they open their arms to her, as one.

She settles in, smiling shyly, and reaches out her hands for them to take, which they do.

They sit in the black and white glow and don't pay much attention to whatever trouble is playing itself out to the sound of other people's laughter. Something in Jonathan shifts, just a little. Just enough for him to realize it had been out of place for a long time.

Nancy starts talking to Steve about something that's happening on the show, and he's content just to listen to the sound. In his head, he starts planning mixtapes.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this is so late. My computer died on Christmas Eve so I had to write the bulk of it (and post!) on my ancient phone. Truly I know how the scribes of old suffered for their craft.
> 
> Hopefully I'll be able to put a mixtape together soon, too!
> 
> (And if I promised you a fic over the holiday season I AM working on them but I'm seriously hindered at the moment!)


End file.
